


relearning to draw

by megeggsalad



Series: it is so simple to love you [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, married au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 06:20:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10530678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megeggsalad/pseuds/megeggsalad
Summary: if there's anything freddie's memorized over the years, it's connor.





	

**Author's Note:**

> shoutout to steph for creating this au with me. and also to kait and emily for reading it first and encouraging me to post it. love yall!!

Freddie’s a little tired of school, at this point. He’s only got two classes to attend, and if not for hockey season--and Connor--he isn’t sure he wouldn’t be on an NHL team already.  


He’s just--he’s tired, he’s been practicing nonstop, he hasn’t seen his husband in practically two days, and he hasn’t drawn in longer, and he knows he’s getting rusty, and he knows that’s making him grumpy and impatient with everyone save Connor.  


It’s also getting kind of cold, but that’s Toronto, so he needs to suck it up and live with it. The doorman to their apartment building greets him with a smile so he nods back, and jogs up the stairs to he and Connor’s second floor apartment. He unlocks the door and can hear Connor’s study music right away, so he tries to be quiet about his return, setting his bag on the counter and unpacking everything in the kitchen. His fingers catch on his sketchbook, and he flips it open. He hasn’t done full body portraits in weeks, focusing mostly on features and faces; more recently he’d been trying to get the curve of Mitch’s nose just right. The kid had a really interesting face to draw--it was all shapes that shouldn’t go together but somehow did, and Mitch’s megawatt smile made it all the more complete. He turns to a sketch of Connor’s face and starts to smile, just as a pair of arms circle around his waist and Connor presses up to Freddie from behind.  


“You’re home,” he murmurs into Freddie’s back. “I didn’t hear you come in.”  


Freddie’s love for Connor goes like this: he can be completely relaxed, or tense as fuck, or totally calm, or mad as hell, and Connor makes it all better, no matter what he’s feeling. He can get lost in a drawing or a game--not necessarily in a good way, either--and a few words and touches from Connor can bring him back, just like that.  


Freddie’s love for Connor is the calming of his heart, the settling of his stomach, the softening of his breath. It’s Connor that makes it all worth it for him--it’s because of Connor that he hasn’t left this all behind yet, no matter how much he adores the team.  


Freddie’s love for Connor is this:  


“I didn’t want to disturb you,” he replies, turning in his husband’s embrace, so he can actually see him for the first time in too long.  


“You could never do that,” Connor says, and it’s easy, and sweet, but there are bags under Connor’s eyes and a crease in his forehead, and Freddie remembers how stressful junior year was.  


He drops a kiss to Connor’s mouth because he hopes it’ll make him feel better, and when Connor curls closer, tucks his hands into Freddie’s back pockets, and smiles against his lips, Freddie knows he’s done that.  


Connor doesn’t pull away when they stop kissing, he just rests his head against Freddie’s chest and sighs, softly. Freddie presses his lips to the top of his head and rubs his hands up and down his back, and knows exactly what he wants to do to get his husband to relax.  


“Hey,” Freddie says softly, and when Connor looks up, he has to kiss him again, just a soft press of lips against lips, because sometimes it still shocks him, how beautiful the love of his life is.  


Connor looks a little dazed, but in a good way, when he says, “What is it?”  


“Can I draw you?” That isn’t all there is to it, but Freddie’s still pretty sure Connor will say yes to it all.  


“Of course,” Connor says, but quirks an eyebrow up. He knows Freddie enough to know that isn’t it.  
Freddie just shakes his head and grabs his sketchbook. He keeps a few sketching pencils in his nightstand, so he doesn’t bother to grab the ones he has in his bag.  


Connor’s stuff is all over the floor on Connor’s side of the bed, and Connor moves to go clean it up, but Freddie grabs his wrist.  


“It can wait,” he says, softly, and Connor finally sees what Freddie’s trying to do.  


And his face fucking lights up. The first few weeks of junior year have hit Connor hard, Freddie knows that, but he hadn’t realized just how badly, because now that he’s seeing that smile, he realizes he hasn’t seen it since school started up again.  


“I’m sorry,” he says, before he can stop himself. “I didn’t realize--”  


“It’s okay,” Connor interrupts, his voice soft but still happy. “I didn’t really tell you. What do you need me to do?”  


Freddie grabs his pencils and throws them, along with his sketchbook, on the bed, before straightening up the blankets and arranging the pillows into a little throne for Connor to sit back on. Connor just watches him, his face soft and shoulders relaxed as he watches Freddie move around their room. Connor watching him--it’s the best thing that’s happened to Freddie all day. Especially when Connor’s watching him and looking at him like that.  


“Okay,” Freddie says, once he’s standing in front of Connor again. “Tell me if you’re uncomfortable with anything. Anything, Con.”  


“I will,” Connor says, and he looks a little confused.  


The confusion lessens a little when Freddie works his shirt off, dragging his fingers along Connor’s skin as much as he can because as much as he wants to draw, he almost always just wants to touch Connor. It’s a constant state of being, that wanting.  


“Okay?” Freddie asks.  


“Yeah,” Connor confirms. Freddie kisses a line down Connor’s neck, and feels something in Connor relax. His hands come up to cup Freddie’s neck, his fingertips scratching into the shorter hairs at the back of his neck. Connor hums happily when Freddie moves to kiss his chest.  


When Freddie drops to his knees, Connor sucks in a breath, but his fingers trail across Freddie’s cheek and he nods at Freddie that he’s okay, so Freddie presses a kiss right below Connor’s belly button and hooks his fingers into the waistband of Connor’s sweatpants and boxers, and drags them both down to Connor’s ankles.  


“Oh,” he hears Connor breathe out, and snaps his head up.  


“Is this okay?” he asks, and breathes out in relief when Connor says, “Yes, Freddie, absolutely.” He presses a few kisses to Connor’s thigh and then stands up and leads his husband to the little nest of pillows.  


“Show me what to do,” Connor says, and Freddie takes a moment, one eyebrow raised and lips tugging downward slightly, to look, and decide what he wants to draw.  


“Like this,” Freddie says, and when he’s done nudging Connor into place, he almost has to sit down. Connor has one leg pulled loosely to his chest, bent at the knee, with one arm resting lazily over it. His neck is relaxed, head resting back against the headboard, and he’s looking at Freddie from beneath half-lidded eyes.  


“Good?” Connor asks, and Freddie--god, there are so many things Freddie wants to do to him right now.  


“Good,” he says, instead of doing them. He messes around with the curtains for a minute, trying to get some interesting lighting, and when he’s satisfied, he perches himself on the edge of the bed, trying to get the best view of Connor that he can.  


It takes him about a half hour to get Connor likeness roughly sketched on the page, and then he starts from the head down, because if he’s memorized anything over the past four years, it’s the way Connor’s hair brushes over his forehead, and the way Connor’s face smooths when he closes his eyes, and the curve of the bridge of Connor’s nose, and the slant of Connor’s cheekbones.  


The whole thing takes him about two and a half hours, and would’ve taken longer, would’ve been more complete, if Connor hadn’t blinked his eyes open sleepily at Freddie around the two hour mark, and just watched him draw.  


Nudity isn’t inherently sexual--by god, Freddie’s preached and preached that for four years, inside the locker room and the classroom pretty equally, so if there’s anyone that knows that, he does--but it’s Connor.  


He puts his sketchbook down and Connor just--he laughs, and it’s light and teasing and happy, and it’s Freddie’s favorite song.  


“Come here,” Connor says, and Freddie sets his book and pencils down and does just that, nudging Connor’s legs apart so he can lay in between them. He props himself over Connor’s body with an elbow and runs his other hand down Connor’s side.  


“It’s been a while,” Connor says, and Freddie smiles.  


“Too long, probably,” he says, and Connor leans up to kiss his pulse point. Freddie feels his whole body shudder, and has to clench his fist so he doesn’t drop all of his weight onto his husband.  


“You can draw me whenever you want,” Connor whispers into his skin. “With clothes or without. I’ll always say yes.”  


Freddie can’t--he still can’t believe he gets to have this. He said “I do” and kissed the groom and they went on a honeymoon for god’s sake, but he still can’t believe it sometimes.  


“I love you,” he whispers into the skin of Connor’s chest, and traces his words with kisses. Connor’s breath hitches and his back arches a little, and when he tugs at Freddie’s shirt, it goes quickly.  


They haven’t done lazy handjobs in a while, but it works for today, because Connor’s tired and Freddie is too, even though he doesn’t really realize it until he’s basking in Connor’s post-orgasm glow and his eyes droop of their own accord.  


“Connor?” he whispers anyways, his lips forming the words against the skin of Connor’s shoulder.  


“Yes, love?” Connor replies, somehow more awake than Freddie.  


“‘M your husband,” he murmurs. “You can talk to me, yeah?”  


Connor lets out a breath, and Freddie forces his eyes open, so he can see Connor’s face when he replies.  


“Yeah, Freddie,” Connor says, and cards a hand through Freddie’s hair. He doesn’t really look sad this time, which is good, Freddie thinks. “I just--I got a little caught up, y’know?”  


And Freddie does know, so he nods. He presses his lips against Connor’s shoulder and says, “I missed you.”  


“I knows, Fred,” Connor whispers, his lips pressing a kiss against Freddie’s forehead. “I missed you too. Go to sleep, though, yeah? Early skate tomorrow. I love you.”  


“Love you, too,” Freddie whispers, and Connor’s hand running through his hair is what puts him to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope u liked it!! come find me on tumblr to yell about these boys.


End file.
